


i still think you're beautiful (and i don't ever wanna lose my best friend)

by lovemailhotline



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Punk Yamaguchi Tadashi, Singer Yamaguchi Tadashi, he also wears a skirt, they literally just go to a concert and be gay, tsukishima's first punk concert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemailhotline/pseuds/lovemailhotline
Summary: Tsukishima is paralyzed by him—by his movements, by his voice, by his change. He’s wonderful and brilliant and terrifying.Kei can’t remember loving someone as much as he loves Yamaguchi, who continues on the stage.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 121





	i still think you're beautiful (and i don't ever wanna lose my best friend)

**Author's Note:**

> let it be known -- i have never EVER been to a punk concert. i have never been to a concert in general. this is just my sense of fanfiction and videos. 
> 
> for the song, if you want one, you can listen to "a match in the water" by pierce the veil (since that's where the inspo for the song came from.) but you dont have to! listen to whatever you'd like

Tsukishima usually goes along with much of everything Yamaguchi asks of him—he is, in short, an entire soft being for the only person who he really feels connected with, who he really loves with the gravitational pull of a black hole that consumes him until he’s just content with being curled into _Tadashi._

With that being said, Tsukishima has _never_ agreed to going to a rock concert. Not emo rock, soft rock, heavy rock, and _especially_ punk rock. He gets enough of that every time he tosses a glance at his boyfriend, who’s always covered head to toe in chains and black clothing of some sort. Not that Kei is complaining—the lip rings and many other dozen piercings Yamaguchi sports fit him, despite his soft outside demeanor; Tsukishima can live with the taste of metal flicking against his tongue when they kiss, and it’s not like he entirely _minds_ it either. 

It’s just… _punk rock. Concerts. Crowds. Loud._ He can’t exactly drown out blasting music into his headphones with the speakers directly in his ear, the people screaming _at_ him rather than _to_ him. He’s never enjoyed going to them, and has never wanted to. 

Which is why he really has no _fucking_ idea how he’s trailing around a loud, packed concert building with _Flyleaf_ playing in the background, almost quiet compared to the voices harmonizing with the song on the dance floor. They’re all sweaty, and wearing a range of baggy clothes held together with safety pins and tight leather pants glued onto the skin. He doesn’t feel _too_ overwhelmed—he actually doesn’t mind this music much. He’s listened to it enough when Tadashi plays a track of his own during their shared music days. It’s not his favorite, at all, but he can definitely deal with it. 

The song changes, and he spots his beloved a few feet away from him, dancing along to the music with a girl with a pink mohawk glued together with excessive amounts of gel. The lights are shining against his tan skin, prancing amongst his freckles that can be seen from his forehead to where his skirt ends—Tsukishima’s throat goes _dry_ when it flicks up at the sway of hips. 

When Yamaguchi sees him—Kei really must look stupid, wearing a beige sweater and loose jeans among the flock of almost emos—his face brightens, and he turns to Pink Mohawk with an apologetic smile as he makes his way towards his boyfriend. 

“Tsukki! You came!” He shouts, grinning, wide and excited. His eyes are sparkling. 

Kei shrugs, “I did. Feel like an odd one out, somewhat.” 

“You look so cute,” Tadashi flutters his eyelashes. “My baby, going to his first punk concert. I’m taking your punk virginity!” 

Tsukishima rubs his face with his hands to hide the flush of red at the choice of words. “Please don’t ever say that phrase again.” 

Yamaguchi just laughs, leaning in to place his hand on Tsukishima’s hot cheek. He kisses him sweetly, teeth clacking, piercing dragging across Kei’s lips. 

Behind them, a group of people begin to whistle. Tsukishima is close to burning away and turning straight to ashes—Tadashi waves his hand at the crowd with a playful eye roll. He seems extremely familiar with the crowd, but from what Yamaguchi has told Kei, a lot of the times, you never really _know_ anyone at punk concerts. It’s just the music that bonds you together—even from a single song, a single note, a single chord. They’re all together, all there. 

“Did you just get here?” Yamaguchi asks, brushing away Tsukishima’s hair. His eyeshadow is sparkly green, Kei notices. 

“Mhm,” Kei confirms. “I thought they weren’t gonna let me in. I look like I’m in some roleplay fantasy for a nerd.” 

Tadashi laughs, loudly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he snorts gently. Tsukishima melts at the sight, fondly bringing that hand up to his own mouth to kiss the inside of Tadashi’s warm palm. 

“Well, I’m glad you got here.” Yamaguchi tilts his head as another small snort escapes him. “And that you aren’t in a freak porno.” 

“I agree.” 

They barely have time to dance—by dance, Kei means, Yamaguchi gently moving against him to the music while Tsukishima just places his hands at Tadashi’s hips—when Pink Mohawk calls Yamaguchi’s name, motioning him over. A guy with black hair stands next to her, thrumming his fingers impatiently against the wall. 

“Ah,” He frowns. “I gotta go.” 

Tsukishima freezes. “Like… away? What about the band performing?” 

Tadashi grins. He’s got a mischievous glint in his eye, biting at his lip, and Kei is immediately put off. He narrows his blonde eyebrows. _“What?”_

Yamaguchi waves him off, just like the crowd. He’s wearing black nail polish. “See you, Tsukki! Go to the front row, ‘kay? I’ll see you.” 

And then he walks off, arm looped with Pink Mohawk, chatting animatedly. 

Tsukishima huffs. 

  
  
  
  
  


Let it be known—Kei has never been in huge crowds before. Because he hates them. 

So he isn’t exactly familiar with mazing his way through a shit ton of dancing and screaming folks surrounding him. This is really when being tall and strong comes in handy—he can just subtly shove his way through and he can _see_ when he’s close to the front of the stage. 

Besides him, a guy with blue hair is screaming wildly to his friend about the next band performing. _Never seen before,_ he tells him, _they’re brand new._

“Now! Now! Everybody, quiet down!” The music has stopped playing from the large speakers, and an announcer is standing on the stage, microphone in his hand. 

“You all know these rules; but in case you don’t, I’ll break ‘em down. If you know the lyrics, sing ‘em! If you boo off the stage, you’re kicked—unless they’re—?” 

_“—Racist and homophobes!”_ The crowd yells back. 

Odd, but supportive message. Kei is mostly just confused. 

The announcer says his goodbyes, talks about the drinks outside of the show, and then makes his way off stage. 

The red curtains spread open like wings. 

Yamaguchi stands tall in front of a microphone. His outfit hasn’t changed—it’s just more noticeable in the brighter lights. Black skirt belted with chains, hanging off in numerous loops. His shirt is red and loose, cut out at the bottom hem to slightly show off his freckled stomach, patches stitched to the shirt in an out of order but still somewhat still neat pattern. He’s wearing fishnet fingerless gloves, matching to the short socks he wears that peak out through his platform sneakers. He’s covered in heaps of jewelry—looking straight out of a punk rock wet dream. 

The crowd _screams_ for him. They haven’t even heard them yet. 

“Hey!” Tadashi taps the mic, laughing. “We have a song for you guys tonight, and I really hope you enjoy. We aren’t really much of an official band—we just play when we play. Donna, hit it.” 

Donna _hits_ it. Music blares. Her drum set is loud, harsh, and the guitarist is playing with intensity and precision. 

Tsukishima recognizes the beat immediately—heard many times from the inside of his headphones when Yamaguchi borrows them. He's never heard the song itself, rather than just the melody of it, loud and crackling against Tadashi's pierced ears.

Yamaguchi begins soft, slow, voice low, molding into something raspy and high. His presence is enchanting, unhooking the mic from it’s stand, shaking his head back and forth as the drum hits. He _screams_ into the microphone, running a hand through his hair. The guitarist is leading background vocals underneath his voice. 

Tadashi brings his body forward to head bang. He’s the entire force of the music—everything in the room has eyes on him, can hear him, feel his energy bursting into the air and into the seams that have already been shredded. 

His eyes are dark and hungry, and he struts his way to the microphone pole to wrap a hand around it and gently slide down, tossing his head back as he reaches the bottom. His eyes gloss over everyone, landing on Kei. He’s completely unreadable. 

He shakes his head back and forth again as the chorus comes back up, then the tempo changes. 

He goes to an entirely new form of raspy. He’s got his gaze on the crowd, never lingering in one place for two long and he brings his voice up back to that screamo he was preaching last time. 

Tsukishima is paralyzed by him—by his movements, by his voice, by his change. He’s wonderful and brilliant and _terrifying_.

Kei can’t remember loving someone as much as he loves Yamaguchi, who continues on the stage. 

It’s the guitar and drums for only a few seconds—until Yamaguchi’s voice is back, and breathtaking. He drops to his knees, glaring like a wild beast, as his voice _ripples_ through the crowd. It’s like a bite, harsh and poisonous, and he sings with his entire being. He’s devastatingly good—there’s not a single person in the room who isn’t screaming with cheers and praise. 

The chorus whips back around, and he goes back to his natural head bang, swinging back and forth. As the music continues, without his voice, he dances along, moving like he owns the music, like he owns the audience—hell, he pretty much _does._

At the final guitar strum, he smiles, and speaks the final note. 

Everyone goes _wild._ Yamaguchi bows, smiling and laughing at the compliments and screams that fester when he blows a kiss towards them. Donna—Pink Mohawk—is grinning at her drums and she does a final dribble with her drumsticks, earning another round of yells from the loving crowd. The guitarist doesn’t do much, but there’s a hint of a smile rounding his lips as he waves. 

Tadashi spots Kei, who’s staring dumbfoundedly at him, blush high on his pale cheeks. He’s breathing unfairly hard for someone who stood and stared for the majority of the performance. 

Yamaguchi jumps into his arms. 

“Did you like it?” He asks, his eyeshadow smudged. He looks too proud—too cocky, too confident. 

Tsukishima grips at his thighs. “I want to see that again a million times.” 

Tadashi smiles, wide. He’s laughing, arms squeezing Kei’s neck for support, “A million? Wouldn’t you get bored?” 

“Of you?” Tsukishima shakes his head, tufts of blonde hair shifting in their place. “Never.” 

“Never _ever?”_ Yamaguchi asks. 

Tsukishima kisses him, earnest, sweaty. He doesn’t care that Yamaguchi’s smiling too hard for them to properly lock lips—doesn’t care that _Heart of Glass_ is playing in the background of this inconsistent makeout, doesn’t give a single _fuck_ that Donna has started whistling at them like before. 

Everyone’s eyes could be on them—on the boring boy with the beige sweater and his punk rock lover—and all Kei would want to be doing is kissing the black lipstick square off of every inch of his beloved’s lips. 

“I love you,” he says, gasping, “love you, my Tadashi. How the _fuck_ did you manage to sing like that?” 

Tadashi brushes their lips together again, slipping his tongue into Tsukishima’s mouth to let him taste the metal piercing in the middle of his mouth. 

When he pulls away, he grins, “I love you, too. And a _shit ton_ of breath support.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i know it'z kind of?? short?? and i would love to do more with this au (if you guys wanna see that..?) but this is just a short fic thrown together for tiktok. and ALSO--i didn't include the lyrics 1. bc i wanted it to be up to interpretation (u think hes singing misery business by paramore? the rock show by blink-182? idc. do it. perfect). and 2. i'm honestly not a fan of including lyrics into fics unless they're done extremely correct, and i Do Not Know how to do them extremely correct yet. so. anyways. hope you guys enjoyed this, and please... comments r worth more than kudos, if you will. (also lmk if u want an actual story focused on punk!yamaguchi and his extreme nerd boyfriend. i will do it.) 
> 
> ahhhh see u!


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